III.ii.12 (241,3) the groundlings] The meaner people then seem to have sat below, as they now sit in the upper gallery, who, not well understanding poetical language, were sometimes gratified by a mimical and mute representation of the drama, previous to the dialogue. III.ii.14 (242,4) inexplicable dumb shews] I believe the meaning is, _shews, without words to explain them_. III.ii.26 (242,6) the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure] The _age_ of the _time_ can hardly pass. May we not read, the _face_ and _body_, or did the author write, the _page_? The _page_ suits well with _form_ and _pressure_, but ill with _body_. III.ii.28 (242,7) pressure] Resemblance, as in a _print_. III.ii.34 (242,8) (not to speak it profanely)] _Profanely_ seems to relate, not to the praise which he has mentioned, but to the censure which he is about to utter. Any gross or indelicate language was called _profane_. III.ii.66 (243,9) the pregnant hinges of the knee] I believe the sense of _pregnant_ in this place is, _quick, ready, prompt_. III.ii.68 (244,1) my dear soul] Perhaps, my _clear_ soul. III.ii.74 (244,2) Whose blood and judgment] According to the doctrine of the four humours, _desire_ and _confidence_ were seated in the blood, and _judgment_ in the phlegm, and the due mixture of the humours made a perfect character. III.ii.89 (244,3) Vulcan's stithy] _Stithy_ is a smith's _anvil_. III.ii.103 (245,4) nor mine now] A man's words, says the proverb, are his own no longer than he keep them unspoken. III.ii.112 (245,5) they stay upon your patience] May it not be read more intelligibly, _They stay upon your_ pleasure. In _Macbeth_ it is, "Noble Macbeth, we stay upon your _leisure_." III.ii.123 (245,6) Do you think I meant country matters?] I think we must read, _Do you think I meant country_ manners? Do you imagine that I meant to sit in your lap, with such rough gallantry as clowns use to their lasses? III.ii.137 (246,7) Nay, then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables] I know not why our editors should, with such implacable anger, persecute our predecessors. The dead, it is true, can make no resistance, they may be attacked with great security; but since they can neither feel nor mend, the safety of mauling them seems greater than the pleasure; nor perhaps would it much misbeseem us to remember, amidst our triumphs over the _nonsensical_ and the _senseless_, that we likewise are men; that _debemur morti_, and, as Swift observed to Burnet, shall soon be among the dead ourselves. I cannot find how the common reading is nonsense, nor why Hamlet, when he laid aside his dress of mourning, in a country where it was _bitter cold_, and the air was _nipping and eager_, should not have a _suit of sables_. I suppose it is well enough known, that the fur of sables is not black.